“Rex is as much a victim as you are.”
Her eyes widened in her shock. “How can you look at me and say that?” She turned to leave.
He snagged her wrist. “Wait a minute, Cooke.”
She yanked her arm, trying to break free. “Not right now.”
He gave her a hard tug, pulling her down next to him. “Sit down.”
“I don’t enjoy being manhandled.” She tried to stand again. “I said not right—”
“Shut up and listen for five damn seconds,” he said as he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her in place.
She pressed her lips firm, sending him the look of death as he sidled himself closer.
“Some stuff happened yesterday.”
Immediately the sinking feeling came back. “What?”
“My car was vandalized, as was yours. They found a couple more dead cats. Rex didn’t do it. He’s been out of the country.”
“But it has to be him. Who else could it be?”
“That’s what we need to figure out.”
“I don’t…” She shook her head, struggling to wrap her mind around the latest turn of events. “I have no idea who else would want to send me messages, kill cats, and ruin our cars.”
“So we’ll make a list of all the men you’ve had contact with over the last six months.”
“Six months? I can’t even tell you all the men I’ve had contact with over the last six weeks. I’m a business figure in Los Angeles. I interact with men every day.”
“Okay, so three months. Start with the people you see on a regular basis: Patrick, the date you brought to Ethan’s party…Mike, JT. Start with people like that and move back from there.”
“Why do you keep bringing up Patrick? It’s not him anymore than it is JT or Mike.” She smiled as she thought of boring Michael Collins. “The only things Mike obsesses about are stocks and bonds.”
“Probably, but the name of the game is elimination. We’ll give Owens and Ethan your list. If the individuals on it have nothing to hide, they’ll be cleared. I want everyone, Cooke, even if you think it couldn’t be them.”
“What about you? I’ve been spending a lot of time with you lately, and things keep getting worse.”
His brow rose. “Are you implying I’m your stalker?”
“Suggesting Patrick, JT, or Mike is is just as absurd.”
“They’re just names to check off; it’s that simple.”
“All right. I’ll make you a list.” The idea of including people she loved and trusted on that list left her unsettled. The possibility that it could actually be one of them made her ill.
“Precautions.” He slid his thumb along her jaw. “That’s all.”
Nodding, she moved back. The last thing she needed right now was Tucker tying her in more knots. “He could be—he could be a stranger, right?”
“Could be.”
“But it’s not likely.”
“In most cases victims know their stalkers.”
“Sarah didn’t know Ezekiel.”
“I said in most cases.”
She rubbed her temple. “I truly don’t have any idea.”
“We’ll start by eliminating who we can, then we’ll go from there.”
“Figuring out who he is could take months.” She closed her eyes and sighed, overwhelmed by the realization. “Somehow I thought this was going to be simpler.”
“If Rex had been our man, it would’ve been a little easier.”
The beautiful pine walls suddenly felt as if they were closing in around her. “I can’t stay in this house indefinitely. I have a business to run and a life to live.”
“This is a temporary solution to a problem. Once the renovations are finished at Ethan’s, we’ll get you settled in there.”
“Okay.” There was no point being upset with Tucker; he was just doing his job. But what about now? “I’ll make you the list, but first I need to use your phone. I have to get a hold of Patrick. The Internet is out, and my cell suddenly has no service.”
“The cell tower’s are probably down too. The wind is howling like a bitch.” He handed her his cellphone anyway.
She slid her finger over the screen and read No Service. “Damn it.” She shoved the phone back in his hand as she stood. “I don’t have time for this.” She walked to the window, utterly frustrated, and watched the snow fall and the wind blow. “I can’t run Cooke Interiors like this.”
“I’m sure we’ll be up and running in a couple days.”
She whirled. “A couple days? I don’t have a couple days, Tucker. I have right now. Today’s the big install at the Movenbecks. We have half a million dollars’ worth of furnishings and accents to place before the charity event tonight. Brice and Mindy are expecting perfection, and for what they’ve paid me, they damn well should get it. Patrick and I should be dealing with this together. I should be there handling the majority of this. But I’m here while some sick bastard ruins our cars and kills poor, defenseless animals because he can’t get to me.” She turned back to the chaos out the window—a perfect representation of her life as of late—and pressed her forehead to the glass.
“Hey.” He pulled her away from the window and took her chin between his fingers. “I know this sucks, Cooke. I know it does, but everything’s going to work out fine. Patrick can handle today. Cooke Interiors means just as much to him as it does to you. He’ll pull this off.”
“I hope so.”
“He will. As to the rest… We’re going to get this figured out. I want you to feel safe. You are safe here with me. No one’s going to hurt you; I’m promising you that.”
Her life was falling apart. Somewhere out there, an obsessed, crazy man hunted her, but as she stood in front of Tucker, staring into his determined eyes, she’d never felt more secure. She rarely believed the promises of others, but she believed his. “Okay.”
The snow had finally stopped, and the sun was attempting to peek out from behind the clouds. Tucker had seen his fair share of winter storms in Park City, but this one had been a doozey. They would be lucky if they got plowed out by tomorrow. Thank God he’d been able to get the Jeep in the garage before the worst of the blizzard hit. He set down his card. “Draw two, Cooke.”
She took two cards from the deck. “So how much longer until we have power?”
Tucker shrugged and played a yellow eight. “Uno. Could be an hour, could be days. The electric company will take care of downtown before they get to us up here in the boonies.”
Wren glanced at her phone. “How long do you think it will take them to fix the tower?”
He grinned. She’d asked him the same question at least twice since this morning. “The answer hasn’t changed since the last time—probably a day or two. I’m sure Patrick’s fine.”
“I just wish I could check in.”
This was eating her alive. Mother Nature couldn’t have picked a shittier day to flex her muscles. If the phone and Internet situation were any better downtown, he would find a way to get her there, but the residents of Park City were on their own until the road and utility crews were able to get their jobs done—and they sure as hell had their hands full. “I wish I could help you, but unfortunately we’re out of luck.”
“What if Lenora keeps calling him with suggested changes for the pool house while he’s busy with the Movenbecks? She’s bound to send him over the edge.” Wren changed the color to blue with another eight. “He’s meeting with her after he finishes the install. How am I supposed to talk him down from a murderous rampage if I can’t even make a call?”
He chuckled. “We’ll have to hope he resists the urge. When the plow guys come through, we’ll get an update on things downtown. If they know of someone with a functioning landline, we’ll get you to it.”
/>
“When will they be by?”
“Probably tomorrow at the earliest.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” He set down the winning card. “Beat you again.”
She threw down her remaining hand in a huff. “I’m officially convinced the deck is rigged.”
“Sore loser.”
“Losing gets a little old after the sixth or seventh time.”
Cranky too. She needed a distraction before she went over and tried the light switch for the umpteenth time. She was definitely a city girl, and a frustrated one at that. “I’m going out to get firewood. We’ll need it tonight. Why don’t you come help?”
She looked out the window. “The snow is taller than I am.”
“In some spots the drifts are taller than me, but I still have to get wood.” He shrugged. “Never pegged you for a whiner, Cooke.”
She glared. “I’m not a whiner.”
He stood and turned, biting his cheek. “Could’ve fooled me. Haven’t heard much of anything else since this morning.” He closed her bedroom door behind him, catching the tail end of her mutterings—something about his anatomy. If he knew her, and he was starting to, she would be ready to wade through the drifts by the time he was in his coat and hat. He’d called her a whiner, but she wasn’t by trade. She was just restless and worried and had every right to be.
Tucker opened his closet and pulled his new winter garb from the shopping bags. As he sat on the bed and tied his boots, he craved the palm trees and ocean views of home. The piles of snow were far less exciting than they had been to him and Staci all those years ago. But he was here now, so he would have to make the best of it. Fully dressed, he started down the hall, pulling on his hat and thermal gloves as he walked.
“Wait for me.”
Grinning, he stopped and turned. He definitely had Wren’s number.
She closed her bedroom door and hurried to catch up, dressed like a sexy snow bunny in her new red ski pants and black jacket. “Guess it’s a good thing we went shopping when we did.”
“Guess so.”
She pulled the black warmer over her ears and slid a slick pair of gloves on her hands. “I’m ready.”
Goddamn, he wanted the hell out of her. “Let’s go.” He opened the door to a violent slap of wind and gritted his teeth against the cold. “Looks like we’re going to have some good old-fashioned Utah fun.”
She sent him a doubtful look. “Oh goodie.”
He smiled. “I’ll go first and make a trail.”
“Super. We’ll be just like the pioneers.” She feigned excitement, then rolled her eyes.
He laughed. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a hot ticket, Cooke?”
She grinned. “Maybe.”
“Just step where I step so we can get this over with.” He started into the drifts, sinking once before he made it to the dip where the wind had blown most of the snow away. He glanced behind him and chuckled as Wren fought her way forward. They weren’t even a quarter of a way to the woodpile, and she was already huffing and puffing. “Keep up that pace and we should be back inside by midnight.”
“What’s that phrase Ethan says? Oh right—kiss ass, Campbell.”
Roaring with laughter, he shook his head and turned to concentrate on the next leg of their journey. Luckily, the rest of their trek wouldn’t be quite as bad. The house blocked the remainder of the slope from the worst of the winds.
“Hey, Tucker.”
“Yeah.” He turned and a solid ball of snow thwacked him on his temple—thankfully the one that wasn’t bruised. Blinking, he absorbed the shocking surprise and cold.
Wren burst out laughing, her big bold laugh he would never get enough of, as he stared at her and swiped the worst of the stinging chill away. “What the hell?”
“That was for calling me a whiner.” She tried to pull herself together, but a snort of laughter escaped, and she leaned forward in her mirth. “You should’ve seen your face. It was priceless.” She wiped at her cheeks. “Oh, I think I’m actually crying.”
“Hey, Cooke.”
She glanced up, still chuckling.
“Better run.” He darted toward her as fast as the snow would allow, and she turned, screaming, doing her best to beat him back to the house. He gained on her quickly and tackled her to the ground, laughing.
“Don’t even think about giving me a whitewash!”
“I think a snowball—” A handful of powder blinded him as Wren swiped her glove his way.
She scrambled up, shrieking through her bursts of laughter as he wiped at his eyes and spit away the worst of the latest attack.
“Oh, it’s on now.” He grabbed for her boot and missed, then crawled forward and captured her leg. She fell, and he shimmied up her body, snatching up her wrists, yanking her arms over her head, and lay on top of her. “All’s fair in war, Cooke,” he panted out.
“Be nice,” she puffed, winded, grinning and batting her lashes.
He chuckled. “Sorry, but you have to pay.” He kept her wrists pinned with one hand and used the other to form a sloppy, misshapen ball. “Any last words?”
“Tucker,” she warned, screeching as small chunks of snow fell on her cheeks from the makeshift weapon he moved closer to her face.
“That’s my name.” He chuckled sinisterly and smooshed the ball in the center of her forehead.
She bucked under him and let loose a bloodcurdling scream. “Damn it! That’s cold!”
“Snow usually is.” He grinned down, enjoying himself immensely as he wiped the worst of the mess away.
She struggled to free her arms. “Truce.”
“Oh, now she wants a truce.”
“Yes.” She chuckled. “Very much so.”
“I don’t know. I have you right where I want you.” He pulled off his glove with his teeth and skimmed his fingers along her chilly jaw.
Her smile vanished. “What are you doing?”
She was beautiful, with her gray eyes bright, her cheeks rosy, and her wild black curls spread out over the blinding white. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone the way I want you, Cooke.”
She struggled to free her hands again. “Let me up.”
He let her hands go but kept her pinned to the ground. “Cooke—”
“I already told you I’m not attracted to you.” She pushed at his chest.
“Bullshit. You were plenty attracted last night.”
“No.” She shoved again, rolled out from under him, and stood. “That was a mistake. Last night was a mistake. That kiss didn’t mean anything.” She walked to the house as quickly as the drifts would allow.
Damned if he was going to let this go. He got to his feet and followed. “Wait a minute.”
She moved faster.
“Hey, Cooke, I’m talking to you.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
He caught her as she reached for the doorknob and spun her to face him. “Wait.”
“What?”
“If you don’t want to roll around in the sheets, that’s fine. I’ll get over it.” Maybe. “But don’t stand here and tell me last night didn’t mean anything. You’re only lying to yourself. There’s something here. There’s something between us whether you like it or not.”
“No.” She tried to pull free.
He yanked her against him. “Yes.”
“No,” she whispered again as she clutched at his jacket.
He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Yes, Wren.” He would say it until she stopped denying what they both already knew.
Her breath shuddered out as they held each other’s gaze. “This can’t happen. I can’t—we can’t…”
She was saying no, but her eyes were sayi
ng yes. He couldn’t take it any more. He had to have her. He crushed his lips against hers and dove in, instantly invading her mouth.
She moaned, and her gloved hands were in his hair, bringing him closer.
He reached out, found the doorknob, and twisted. They walked through, still clinging, and he kicked the door shut. Whirling them around, he pressed her to the heavy wood and pulled the warmer from her ears, never taking his mouth from hers. She took off her gloves, tossing them to the floor as he kicked off his boots. He unzipped her jacket, yanking it down her arms, and tossed it aside.
He reluctantly eased back, breath heaving as he tugged at her sweater. He impatiently worked his way through the layers of clothing to get to her soft skin. He’d wanted to touch her for months; now that he could, it wasn’t happening fast enough.
She discarded his jacket and thermal top, casting them aside in between fevered kisses. He pulled her turtleneck off and groaned as he stared at her black bra over her small, firm swells. “My God, Cooke, you’re gorgeous.”
She responded by pulling his mouth back to hers, nibbling and tugging at his bottom lip as she unsnapped his ski pants and eased them over his hips. He shoved them further down and stepped his way out like a marching soldier.
Her eagerness revved him higher, and finally he cupped her breasts through the silk, making her shiver. “I’ve gotta get you out of the rest of these clothes,” he panted, picking her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he rushed to the bedroom. Her tongue traced his ear and glided down his neck, driving him crazy.
He opened the door, slamming it behind them, and laid her on the bed. He tugged off her boots, tossed them over his shoulders and made a beeline for the snap on her ski pants. He peeled them off, taking her yoga pants and black lace panties with them. He’d never seen anything so spectacular as Wren mostly naked in the fading sunlight.
Waiting For Wren (Book Five In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series) Page 14
